


Where Your Lust Ends

by EveryDarkCorner



Series: SladeRobin Week Stories [14]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Exhaustion, Intersex Omegas, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Noncontober, Omegaverse, Praise Kink, SladeRobin Week, Whumptober 2020, exhausted from heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDarkCorner/pseuds/EveryDarkCorner
Summary: Robin is exhausted after being in heat.  Slade takes care of him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Week Stories [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1169576
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020, Whumptober 2020





	Where Your Lust Ends

**Author's Note:**

> **Today's Prompts:**
> 
> SladeRobin Week:  
> \- "What do you want from me?"
> 
> Whumptober:  
> \- Reluctant bedrest
> 
> Kinktober:  
> \- Praise kink
> 
> Noncontober:  
> \- Rape fantasy

Robin was sprawled in the bath when the heat haze lifted.

It was like clawing his way up through mud. He took a breath, and recognised the smells of soap and Slade and sweat, and then realised what it _meant_ that he realised.

His head was tilted back against the porcelain. He lifted it.

Muscles screamed across his shoulders and down his back. Steaming hot water lapped around him as he flinched. Crouched at the side of the bath, Slade looked up. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and his hair was damp; he must’ve washed already. He lifted a hand out of the bathwater by Robin’s knee and squeezed out a soapy sponge.

Slade.

Slade was _with him_. In the _bath_.

Robin tried to snap a protest, but only managed a cracked, miserable, ‘No.’

‘Shh,’ Slade murmured. ‘Go back to sleep.’

Reaching up, he cupped the side of Robin’s neck and squeezed gently, palm pressing into the bite. Robin whined and let his head fall back, instinctively going slack. When Slade withdrew his hand, Robin lay panting, struggling against both aching muscles and the heavy press of omega instinct.

But he didn’t go back to sleep. When Slade ran the sponge over his chest, Robin flinched again.

‘Stop.’ He lifted a hand, although it sent spears of pain lancing up his arm. His hand landed on Slade’s wrist, and the effort of keeping it there made his arm quake. ‘Get—get out.’

Slade tilted his head, his single eye flicking across Robin’s face, as if trying to drink in every minute twitch of emotion. ‘You’re really coming round, aren’t you?’

Robin gritted his teeth. Even that ached. His jaw hurt, and he had a vague, dream-like memory of Slade prising his mouth open, of hot skin slipping inside. His stomach turned. ‘I can wash myself.’

Slade scoffed. ‘You can’t even sit up.’ He sat back. ‘Go on. Try.’

Scowling, Robin took a deep breath and hauled himself up.

About an inch.

Then fire ripped through his abdominals, and he fell back with a grunt, water sloshing around him. He gasped, longing to curl into a ball around the pain, and unable to. He felt like he’d been steamrollered.

Slade arched an eyebrow, and then leaned back in with the sponge. He lifted one of Robin’s arms out the water and ran the sponge down it, scrubbing soap into his skin. Robin didn’t have the strength to pull away. He tilted his head back against the tub, tears pricking his eyes. His face burned.

‘Don’t be embarrassed.’ Slade reached up and brushed his thumb over the outer corner of Robin’s eye, smearing warm water where a tear had been. ‘I’ve seen every inch of you in the last few days. And Robin?’ He leaned closer, his mouth brushing Robin’s ear as he whispered. ‘You were perfect.’

A small shiver raced down Robin’s spine. The bite warmed at his throat.

‘Don’t,’ he whispered.

Slade drew back. ‘Then don’t be ashamed.’ He went back to cleaning Robin down, reaching across the tub to scrub his other arm. ‘You’re my soul mate. You were made for me, every part of you. Your perfect mouth—’ he traced Robin’s lower lip with his thumb, ‘—your perfect body—’ his hand skimmed down Robin’s chest, into the water, along his stomach, ‘—your perfect cunt.’

He brushed between Robin’s legs, barely tracing Robin’s slit and the underside of his cock. Robin whimpered, tried to close his legs, and whimpered again at the sharp stab of pain through his thighs and ass. And now, at Slade’s touch, another pain made itself known. A throbbing, sore ache in his cunt. The ache of being used.

And to his horror, his cock twitched.

‘You were so good for me,’ Slade murmured. ‘So beautiful, every time you woke up begging for my cock.’

A slow, languid pulse thudded low in Robin’s body. He wasn’t used to this. Slade never talked like this. Slade mocked and punished and tormented him. He didn’t _praise_.

‘You took it so well, Robin.’ Slade rested his hand on Robin’s thigh. Warmth radiated from his touch. ‘I’m proud of you.’

A shudder wracked Robin’s body. His aching muscles twitched and the moan slipped out before he could strangle it. He swallowed. ‘Slade …’

He was going to complain. He was going to say _stop_ , to push Slade away again. But Slade squeezed his leg and heat flushed through Robin’s body, and Robin sank back again. Slade rubbed up and down Robin’s leg, squeezed again, then squeezed his cock. Robin whined. He felt wrung-out. He felt flattened. He felt like turning over and arching his back, presenting himself again even as the last hazy scraps of heat fluttered away.

‘Come on.’ Slade’s arms slipped under Robin’s body. ‘You need bedrest.’

He lifted Robin out, towelled him down, and carried him bridal-style to the bedroom. The sheets were crisp and smelled of detergent, and Robin sank into them without resistance, too exhausted for anything else.

‘My omega,’ Slade hummed, one hand on Robin’s bare hip, his thumb rubbing circles in the dip towards Robin’s navel. ‘My perfect omega.’

Robin parted his lips and closed his eyes. The pillows were clouds beneath him, insubstantial and bottomless, and he sank backwards into them, and down, and down, and down. Precome dribbled onto his stomach, his cock hard and aching, and he was too tired to reach for it.

Slade traced the hard ridge at the underside of Robin’s cock, his fingertips warm and light. ‘Look at you. Still aching for me, even now.’ He lifted his hand away. ‘What do you want from me, Robin? You can rest, if you want. You’ve earned it.’

He sounded so gentle. So warm. A pang shot through Robin’s stomach, and all he wanted was for Slade to keep sounding like that. He blinked, slow and lazy. He imagined falling asleep, and Slade turning him over and fucking him anyway. Raping him in his sleep.

A longing shiver raced down his spine.

But he couldn’t sleep now, not with that heat thumping between his legs. Not with Slade’s scent just teasing at the edge of his reach. Not with the last drips of heat hormones clinging to his nerves.

‘I want you,’ he whispered. Then, softer, ‘Go slow.’

A low rumble hummed through Slade’s chest. His hand traced Robin’s cheek. ‘That’s my boy.’ His hands ran down Robin’s body, flicking each of his nipples before sliding between his legs. ‘That’s my perfect omega.’ He parted Robin’s knees and hooked his legs up. ‘Just relax. Lie back and rest and let me take care of you.’

A last wave of shame crashed through Robin’s body. His throat tightened and he closed his eyes against the threat of tears.

Slade’s cock nudged his aching cunt.

God, he hurt so much.

He slid inside, slow and easy. Robin was already wet.

He was so tired.

Slade rocked his hips.

And Robin drifted in the dark.


End file.
